A Different Perspective
by dancer4813
Summary: "Neville Longbottom," she hissed. "You are all those things and more. Don't you think for a second otherwise. Your grandmother should be proud of you. I know your parents would be proud of you. Just be proud of yourself!" And with that, she stormed silently away, shutting the door with little more than a whisper, as though she'd never been there at all. Neville after DOM, 5th year.


(Word Count: 2,213)

**A Different Perspective**

* * *

"_Be the change you wish to see in the world." -Mahatma Gandhi_

* * *

A moonless sky, full of stars, shone down over the Hogwarts grounds. It was a warm night, despite the chill that the dusk called forth. Owls flew to and from the Owlrey, returning from their hunting and carrying their kills in their talons.

The door leading to the top of the Astronomy Tower creaked loudly, causing a few foraging mice to scurry for cover and the dark-haired boy entering the tower to cringe. He winced as the noise echoed off the circular stone walls and didn't relax until he was sure the sound hadn't been heard by the rest of the castle.

The fifth year Gryffindor walked to the edge of the wall as he had numerous times over the past five years. He sucked in a breath of fresh air, glad that he could have a place to be when he needed solitude, or just somewhere quiet to sit and think. No one knew about his nighttime wanderings, and he preferred to keep it that way. Well, at least no one in his own house. Luna probably did know, even if she had never spoken about them or met him while he was walking through the castle after curfew. She was special in that way; she was able to figure out most people's secrets even when they were well-guarded or hidden.

Neville smiled at the thought of the blonde. The Ravenclaw had proved to be a powerful witch during DA lessons, despite her dotty appearance, just like he had managed to improve beyond what he ever could have thought himself capable of over the course of a few months.

He had found an interest in the DA when Hermione had first invited him to the Hog's Head for their brief meeting, but that had been because of his worry about grades. His transfiguration grade was only averaging a Poor, and that was even before he took his OWLS. He knew that a little extra training couldn't hurt, even if it was actually Defense he was training for. Hadn't his grandmother always told him that his wand would respond better as long as he took the time to use it? That the more he worked with his – previously his father's – wand, the more he channeled his magic through it, the better it would work for him?

There was also the added bonus of defying the Ministry and Umbridge. He smiled wryly as he remembered his grandmother's rant over the Christmas holidays about 'that hag Umb*tch and her 'despicable teaching methods'.' He had long been accustomed to his grandmother's temper, but he had never heard her mouth run quite as foul as it had when she had gone off on his Defense teacher.

_Or rather ex-Defense teacher._ He thought smugly, remembering the shivering wreck Umbridge had been when he had last seen her in the Hospital Wing. _Serves her right, too._

But Neville had more on his mind than insane teachers.

Ever since that night at the Ministry two days previously, Neville had been thinking. He had been thinking long and hard.

Not many people really ever noticed that Neville was more than just a Gryffindor crybaby or weakling. He didn't have bad marks, but he kept to himself and, in an atmosphere of rambunctious Gryffindors, no one ever seemed to notice him. Not like they noticed the Weasley twins, or even Hermione.

Even before he had come to Hogwarts he had felt a sense of isolation. No one really knew what he was thinking, or how he felt. No one truly understood him as a person. They saw him as the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom, the Aurors; as the grandson of renowned dueling champion Augusta Longbottom. They saw him as the short, rotund boy he had been when his great-uncle Algie had dropped him out of a window and he had bounced down the street. The boy who had never shown a trace of magic until two summers before he came to Hogwarts – a month before his ninth birthday.

Neville pulled his wand out of the inside pocket of his robes; or at least what had been his wand, and his father's before him.

The two pieces of wood were virtually worthless, since Dolohov had broken it in the Department of Mysteries. He remembered lifting the wand to cast a spell, just to see the Death Eater's foot aiming for his face. His nose hadn't been broken, though it had been very bruised and bled a lot. His wand on the other hand…

Rubbing the smooth wood between his fingers, Neville wondered why he had never had an easy time using his wand. Even though he had been getting much better through Dumbledore's Army, there had still been a barrier that he could feel when he began to perform a spell. His grandmother had assured him that it was merely a lack of self-confidence, but now he wasn't so sure. Ron had exclaimed multiple times over the improvement of his new wand during their third year. Maybe there was something to all "the wand chooses the wizard" idea that his Gran had called rubbish.

When he had first asked about getting a new wand, she had insisted on first his mother's wand, then his father's wand. He had tried both of them on his tenth birthday, with limited success.

His mother's had caused a few of the windows in the front hallway to break when he first waved it around. His grandmother had decided to keep it in a trunk of keepsakes, stowed in the attic.

His father's hadn't felt any more comfortable in his hand, but nothing had exploded, caught fire, or disintegrated. That was good enough for Gran.

But now it was broken, the last link to his parents' past lives destroyed in an instant.

Despite its supposed dislike of him, the wand had always reminded him of his father and mother – kept them close in a way.

He sighed, glancing up at the stars and wondering – not for the first time – if his parents were up there, somewhere, watching him. Granted he knew their bodies lay in stark-white beds in St. Mungo's, but he couldn't help wondering whether their souls had escaped their destroyed bodies after they had been tortured and simply joined the heavens. He also wondered if they even knew who he was when he came to visit. Would they be proud of him, of what he had done? Or would they warn him about being too young, then try to shield him from the rest of the war, just like his grandmother had done?

Neville ran a hand through his hair, looking back down at his lap. How could he even think they would be proud of him? He was rubbish at school, especially Transfiguration and Potions – both of which he knew his parents had excelled in. He was a Gryffindor, but he had spent years hearing how he would have done well as a Hufflepuff. He was clumsy, shy and introverted while his parents were top of their Auror classes and some of the best at what they did.

How could they ever be proud of him? _Gran was right. I could never live up to their legacy._

Just then, a small, airy voice that sounded suspiciously like Luna's reminded him of something he had forgotten.

_You learned the shield charm faster than anyone else, save Hermione._

He considered the truth of the words. Granted, he had learned the spell quicker than he usually did, but it must have been a fluke. Faster than all the Ravenclaws? Surely not.

_You managed to stun Hermione and disarm Harry._

But he had only disarmed Harry once – and Hermione had been distracted when he stunned her.

_What about all those times you successfully performed the Impediment Jinx, with spotless accuracy?_

Spotless? Hardly. He had usually ended up jinxing the person next to the one he was aiming at.

_Even if it wasn't perfect, you kept at it until you had it perfect._

Now _that_ was true. The escape of the Azkaban prisoners had inspired a sort of fervor within him; a desire, nearly an obsession, to fight back, to speak out. To revenge his parents.

Gritting his teeth, Neville sunk down to the floor, thankful for the cold stone to keep him grounded. Not for the first '_Or the last, probably,'_ time did he wish to curse Bellatrix Lestrange and her cronies until they were unrecognizable piles of slime, then bury them in a hole to rot and be eaten by all manner of disgusting bugs.

Remembering the wild-haired death eater's insane grin and condescending tone of voice, Neville shuddered. He couldn't see how his parents had been able to stand up to a woman like her without fear, without worry, and take the fall so that others wouldn't have to.

_Could I do that? Sacrifice myself for a friend? For a family member?_

He doubted he could, and shook his head in near defeat.

_Of course you can._ Luna's voice whispered, floating along on a warm breath of wind that floated through the tower. _You only have to believe in yourself._

"But how could I?" he asked himself, looking up at the stars, "Even if I was given the opportunity, I'm just not strong enough to do a thing like that."

"Change your thinking and you can be the change you wish for the world."

_Where did that come from?_

"Neville?" the voice came again.

Turning his head sharply, he saw a glint of long, shimmering blonde hair in the starlight. _Luna_.

He relaxed, glad she had come to him, even if he hadn't expected her. "Hello Luna. Nice to see you."

"It's pleasant to see you as well, Neville. But the Nargles are simply swarming around you," she stared straight at the surrounding air, a frown of concern on her pale face. "Are you alright?"

"I've been better."

"Haven't we all."

"Mmm…"

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Neville's mind caught up with events. "Luna?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing here?"

Luna smiled mysteriously, gazing up at the stars as she sunk onto the ground next to him.

"I saw the uncommon gathering of Nargles and decided to follow them here, of course. Though I think they might have been planning for this. They seem to be dispersing now that I'm here," She followed one of the unseen creatures with her eyes, following its progress over the parapet and out to the grounds. "It does seem that you need something – even if I can't quite put my finger on what yet."

She eyed him, as though he might give her an answer, but when he said nothing the turned her silvery-blue eyes back to the stars, admiring the constellations.

"Did you mean that thing you said earlier?"

"Which one?" she asked, a spark alighting in her eyes.

"About changing the world and thinking."

"Change your thinking and you can be the change you wish for the world?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"I did mean to say it, if that's what you meant. Though I'm not sure even _I _know what exactly it means fully. Daddy said it to me once, and I never forgot it. I thought you might be able to use it though – what with your half-empty glass."

"What glass?"

"Never mind."

The silence lasted for a few moments longer.

"It means that if you can direct your thoughts to a more positive angle, your actions and life will undoubtedly follow," Luna eyed him thoughtfully, then continued. "You're stronger than you think."

Neville sighed, but didn't say anything. He wasn't brave or strong enough to do anything important. Didn't Luna see that?

"Harry chose you to go to the Department of Mysteries."

"But I hardly did anything." He said, letting his head fall back against the stone wall.

"You stood up to those who harmed your parents, without flinching or hiding away."

"They didn't see me as a threat." He said tensely.

"You kept trying, even when others would have given up. You were strong. You were brave."

"No I wasn't!" He yelled, frustrated. "I'm not any of those things! I'm just stupid, weak, clumsy-" he was cut off as Luna's hand found its way across his mouth.

"Neville Longbottom," she hissed vehemently. "You are all those things and more. Don't you think for a second otherwise. Your grandmother should be proud of you. I know your parents would be proud of you. Just be proud of yourself!"

And with that, she stormed silently away, shutting the door with little more than a whisper, as though she'd never been there at all.

Neville sat, stunned for a moment.

_Is it true?_ He wondered desperately as he stood up and stretched his cramping muscles. _Would they really be proud? _

He clenched the broken pieces of his father's wand in his hand. _Even if they weren't before, they will be. I'll make them proud. Just wait and see._

He took one last look up at the stars – a determined expression on his face and a steely glint in his eye – then he turned and followed Luna down the winding stairs.

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**A/N: Well, this just sort of appeared out of nowhere. I started writing and couldn't stop. (Though in my opinion, that happens way too often to be completely healthy) :P **

**Tell me what you thought, whether you liked it or disliked it, etc. I want feedback! :D**

**Hope you liked it!**

_Competitions this is entered in:_

_HP Potions Competition: Shrinking Potion – Write about someone who feels unimportant_

_The Wand Wood Competition: Willow – Write about a character with a lot of potential who is always underestimated._

_Magical Objects Competition: The Invisibility Cloak – Write a Neville-centric oneshot_

_The Dark Side Competition: Death Eaters – Write a story over 2,000 words_

_The Weasley Wizard Wheezes Competition: Deflagration Deluxe – Write a story over 2,000 words_

_The Honeydukes Competition: Drooble's Best Blowing Gum – write a story over 2,000 words_


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